


These Things I Can't Say

by castronomicaaal



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 21:55:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3224861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castronomicaaal/pseuds/castronomicaaal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been weeks now since Grady, since Beth did something that forever altered her life. She can't seem to let it go, but Rick is there to talk her through it. This is a Coda redo piece.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Things I Can't Say

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously this is aligned with everything up through Coda, where I've then since veered off and corrected a few mistakes. This was written for Brick day, where I used the prompt 'cold' to shape my story. I hope you enjoy! :)

It’s different now, Beth realizes it almost instantaneously.

She’d been separated from the group for some time now. None of them have been a constant in her life for months. Really, it shouldn’t come as a surprise, but Beth can’t help in feeling a bit shell shocked as she realizes just how much the group dynamic has since changed without her there.

When she had watched the group entering Grady it’d been a relief. She’d been dreaming of the moment she would see them all again and it was overwhelming and both the best and worst moment of her life thus far.

Best for obvious reasons, but worst because she had murdered Dawn.

Beth still can’t wrap her mind around it; couldn’t when Daryl helped her down five flights of stairs and out of the building, couldn’t when Maggie wrapped her up in a tight hug, couldn’t when Glenn placed a comforting hand along her back.

She can’t remember how she got to this point, or how any of them got there really. When had Beth become the type of person to kill another human being?

Undoubtedly, it had changed her.

She just doesn’t feel right in her own skin, with the rest of the group looming over her constantly as they travel to D.C. And there are new people too and most of them make Beth feel nervous, perhaps even uncomfortable, and it’s overwhelming and too much to process all at once.

And she killed somebody.

Maybe the worst part is knowing that she didn’t even blink an eye when it had happened.

Beth can remember watching Dawn for several moments after she’d requested Noah back, a type of hatred she’d never felt before in all of her young life bubbling within the pit of her stomach like water above a high flame.

There had been hatred for being hit by that car and taken from Daryl and the life they could have built at the funeral home.

There had been disgust for Gorman and his sick attempts to abuse her, all the while Dawn stood by and said nothing—not for her, not for Joan, not for anybody.

There had been anger that Dawn had forced her to shove that cop down the elevator shaft. If Beth had known about how her time at Grady was going to end she would have pushed Dawn right down there with him and saved everyone the trouble.

There had been a blinding rage due to her desire to get Noah back. Beth had no doubts in her heart whatsoever that Dawn wanted him dead. It wasn’t a simple tradeoff, it was a death sentence.

Too blinded by her desires to win, to look competent in front of the officers she had no clue already wanted her out of there, Beth had realized something about Dawn; she would do whatever it took to keep Grady exactly the way it was. She would continue to hurt people, to force people to stay there without giving them the option to leave, to allow them to be attacked and harmed, to manipulate them to no end. So long as it meant Dawn got what she needed from the place.

And that had been exactly what made Beth do it.

She had stabbed Dawn in the neck with a pair of scissors she’d kept hidden in her cast.

It’s been weeks now but she can still feel Dawn’s warm blood on her face, spurting from the jagged cut along her neck. She can see Dawn’s wide, disbelieving eyes and hear her gasping out her very last breaths as she had dropped to her knees and reached out for Beth with shaking fingers.

It was the first time Beth had ever deliberately, purposefully killed another human being.

And Dawn’s blood on her hands has been burning her to the core ever since.

It’s hard to find a place in this world, with these people, when Beth isn’t even certain if she can find a place within her own self anymore.

It’s the first time she’s truly glad for the walkers and for the disarray. Being on the run constantly doesn’t leave much time to go looking into mirrors and she’s almost terrified to think about what she may find if she were to look into one—who would she see staring back at her?

“You’re quiet,” Rick offers. The soft crackle of the fire gives off a sense of comfort as they sit around it. The group is left camping for the night, everyone else either already sleeping or on watch. Its soft amber glow lights their camp space just enough that he can spot something off within her eyes.

Rick has been watching Beth carefully for a while now, almost thoughtfully, nearly every night—at least for long enough to realize it’s not the first time he’s seen her looking like this.

They’ve been treating her like glass that may break at any moment. Rick must admit he’s been guilty of this himself, but it’s especially Maggie who has been keeping her on such a short leash ever since their rescue mission at Grady. He prefers to care for her from afar, making sure she stays close to the group and feeling safe without overtly smothering her. But there’s just something in her far off gaze tonight that makes him want to say something, to speak with her.

He still counts his lucky stars that they were able to get Beth back, to get Carol back, but as he looks at her he can’t help in wondering if they really did.

This Beth certainly isn’t the same girl from the prison, and far from the same girl he first met on the farm.

There’s a sadness to her eyes now, one that Rick can’t remember seeing in there since the farm. But she puts on a front nearly every day, always smiling with a brave face when she’s with the group as they travel. It’s only after dark, once the sun has nestled itself away for the night that she seems to let this sadness show. Probably because she doesn’t think anyone can see.

But Rick can.

It pains him to know she’s hurting, makes his heart ache to think about the things she went through at Grady. He doesn’t know everything, he’s not even certain he’d want to, but knows enough through Noah’s discussions of the place to realize Beth has been changed by it.

She has always been their hope, their faith, and their song. And to see her reverting into a shell of the woman she had been unnerves Rick to no end. But he supposes it’s just what this world has become. It’s breaking away at her, piece by piece. First her mother and the Patricia and Jimmy and Hershel and then her kidnapping—he thinks it’s a miracle she’s even lasted as long as she had.

“Just thinkin’,” she offers with a small shrug, kicking at a loose patch of dirt nearby the log the twosome are seated on.

Rick nods. He can understand that, thinks he can even understand some of the things Beth may be currently going through. But he doesn’t want to push her too much for fear of her burrowing even further back into herself. “Thinkin’ is just about the only thing we can do around here nowadays.”

Beth agrees with a soft hum, continuing to play with the loose soil. Her hands are clasped on her knees, her bowl of soup long forgotten on the ground below.

“You hungry?” He wonders. “Food’s getting’ cold.”

She shrugs, sighing. “Not too hungry these days,” she tells him with honesty.

“You can always eat later,” he concedes after. “Listen, Beth—”

“—I don’t know if I wanna talk about it, Rick,” she inturrupts, turning to finally meet his gaze. She looks nervous and sad and he finds his chest constricting as he regards her.

“I’m not tryin’ to get you to talk,” he offers, “I’m just hopin’ you’ll listen.”

Beth doesn’t reject this, doesn’t say anything at all, and only sits there patiently and waits for him to continue. He takes it as a big win.

Rick sighs after, running his fingertips through the scruff of his beard. “The first walker I ever killed was a little girl. When I found her I’d just left the hospital and I was confused, disoriented, didn’t know what in the hell was goin’ on. I just thought she was lost, thought she was lookin’ for her parents. But she turned and her mouth wasn’t right, she was all dirty and bleedin’ and growlin’, and she ran at me. So I shot her—scared the hell out of me, too.”

Beth listens silently, biting at her lower lip. But Rick is able to register the intrigue to her stare, so he continues.

“The first time I ever killed a person, well, it happened without me even thinkin’ on it. It was while you were real sick in shock. Glenn and I went to go bring back Hershel to you and these two guys ambushed us, started askin’ about where we were livin’. But I knew they were bad news,” he pauses for a moment, licking at his lips as the memories flood back. “I knew they were no good. I couldn’t let them come back to the farm with us. Lori was pregnant, Carl was there, and you were there, too. I had to keep everybody safe. So I killed the both of ‘em without thinkin’, before either of ‘em could kill us.” 

“Why’re you tellin’ me all this, Rick?” Beth asks with genuine wonder, hands playing with the hem of her shirt as she looks after him. He can tell she’s nervous, her body trembling slightly, but she stays put by his side.

“I’m tellin’ you this because I think I understand what you’re goin’ through right now,” he supplies. “I’m tellin’ you this because I still can’t for the life of me figure out why it was so damn hard to kill that little girl who’d already turned, and so damn easy to kill two livin’, breathin’ men.”

“It’s not the same,” she shakes her head after, “you’re Rick Grimes.”

He chuckles at this, fitting her with a small smile as he regards the blonde. She looks almost taken aback by his laugh, but more so confused, and he chances throwing his hand over her own. Beth shivers slightly at the touch but eventually squeezes back.

“I’m Rick Grimes, huh?” He asks. “It doesn’t matter if I’m Rick or if you’re Rick. The point is, we’ve both had to do things we never wanted to do, never would of dreamed of doin’ before this mess of a world. But we’re both strong enough to do it, and we’re both still here because we’re strong enough to make the hard choices.”

“I don’t know what you’re tryin’ to say,” she admits.

“I’m sayin’ that you killin’ Dawn is just a new part of this life. It sucks, it’s not fun, but it’s a part of this life. You saved Noah’s life, Beth. You saved a lot of lives by doin’ what you did. Was Dawn a good person?”

Beth hesitates for a moment before shrugging slightly, her frown deepening. “She could have been, before all this.”

Rick shakes his head. “But was she a good person now? In this world?”

“No,” Beth eventually admits. “She tried to be, but I don’t think she was getting’ just what this world is about.”  

“Would Noah be alive right now if you didn’t do what you did?”

“I don’t know,” she confesses, voice soft. “Maybe not.”

“Is Noah a good person?” Rick wonders after.

Beth looks almost offended by his question, nodding her head with ease. “Of course, you know that.”

He sighs, nodding. “Then you did the right thing.”

“I guess I just don’t like how it’s changed me,” Beth admits finally, voicing her fears out loud for the first time. She doesn’t know why really, just that she feels safe here with Rick; calm. “I never wanted to be this person. My hearts growin’ cold.”

“You don’t have to be this person,” Rick tells her with sincerity. “Your whole life is not defined by one thing you’ve done; your heart’s not growin’ cold. If it was, you wouldn’t be carin’ this much about it all. You don’t have to let this change you. After Lori, well I thought I’d be forever changed, too. And I am, I have to be because a part of me is gone, but there’s still so much left. Beth, there’re so many great parts of you left. You’ve got your faith and your hope. You’re everyone’s faith.”

She watches him for a moment, her big blue eyes trained on his. “That’s a lot of pressure for one person.”

“I trust you with my life,” he acknowledges frankly. “And I trust that you would never let any of us down.”

Beth blinks back tears as she watched him, swiping at her cheek. “I don’t cry anymore.”

“Cryin’ is human,” he tells her. “As far as I’m concerned, feelin’ human keeps remindin’ us we _are_ human, and we could all use a little bit more of that in this world.”

She nods, eventually giving in to the tears and allowing them to fall. “Dawn ruined my face,” she admits after, voice hoarse. “I’m afraid of havin’ this face, havin’ these ugly scars because they mean she’s gonna be with me forever.”

“Shhh,” Rick pulls her close, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and allowing for Beth to place her forehead within the crook of his neck. “It means you were strong, brave. They’re your battle scars, they prove you won.”

“They’re still ugly,” she shakes her head.

Rick frowns, pulling her back far enough so he can look her in the eyes. “Don’t say that. You’re beautiful,” he whispers, “So beautiful, Beth.

“I wish I could believe you,” she hiccups, shaking her head.

He isn’t sure what makes him do it, just knows that it’s the first time he’s emotionally connect with someone since Lori. Reaching forward, he plants a small kiss along the scar on her forehead. Beth doesn’t move, seated still as a rock as he trails kisses across the top of her head and down her cheek to kiss at the scar there, too. “Beautiful,” he whispers again.

Beth blinks rapidly, watching him with burning cheeks. She doesn’t know what this is, what it means, but it’s the first time she’s truly felt accepted since being rescued from Grady. It’s the first time someone’s actually listened to her without constantly wondering for her safety and her sanity. It feels good.

She kisses him before he has the chance to protest, her lips locking on his own like a vice.

Rick briefly wonders if he should be doing this, if they should be kissing. She’s so young, still a teenager, and he supposes he should feel a bit perverse for letting her kiss him. But he doesn’t, he only feels a sense of peacefulness, of purposefulness, and she’s radiating in his arms and making him forget about all of the bad he’s done in this world. Rick hopes he’s doing the same for her.

He kisses back with a fierceness, hands snaking their way around her waist to grab at her hips. There he holds tight, stroking her shirt with his fingertips as they continue to kiss.

Beth extends her tongue, licking along his lower lip. He grants her access, his own tongue swooping forward to meet hers. Their kiss soon turns passionate, her hands clinging to the front of his flannel as they experience one another.

Eventually it becomes too much, overwhelming Beth’s senses, and she’s forced to break the kiss and take in the cool night air to balance out her breathing.

“Rick,” her voice is hesitant as she meets his gaze. It’s obvious she’s nervous, perhaps even fearful of his response to her lack of inhibition.

But he shakes his head quickly, stifling her worries with a quick kiss to the top of her head. “Don’t be ashamed of that,” he tells her. “Never be ashamed of wantin’ to feel good, of needin’ to feel something good. I won’t be.”

“Good,” Beth whispers after, pulling him closer and into a hug. “Do you think you could hold me tonight, Rick?”

He nods, accepting her arms and helping her up. Together they make their way to his tent, crawling inside.

Beth doesn’t know what this means, where exactly these sudden rush of emotions have developed from, but she does know one thing with certainty: when she’d been kissing Rick, she felt good again, even whole.

And she doesn’t plan on ever trading in those few minutes of peace for the world—maybe even thinks about making a few more.


End file.
